


Coulson: Ghost Story

by Lavender_Persimmon305



Category: The Avengers (2012), West Wing
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Erotica, F/M, Kidnapping, Romance, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_Persimmon305/pseuds/Lavender_Persimmon305
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Phil Coulson is undercover at the White House as FBI Agent Michael Casper, working on a case involving a threat to the President's safety. It all seems by-the-book until he meets a cellist...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coulson: Ghost Story

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely, really loosely, based on the episode 'Bartlet for America.' Please don't flame, I'm telling you it's loose. It's just an idea I had when I heard about this headcanon floating about that Coulson was undercover as Casper. This will probably be the intro to my main Coulson fic, which is still WIP. i do hope you enjoy this.

Washington, DC   
Christmas 2001

The White House glittered even in the morning light, Christmas trees and holiday decorations scattered throughout the massive residence, and the bustle of people seemed to be even greater through the halls.

Parker MacNamara gripped the handle of her cello case harder as she walked through the corridors, enjoying the scents of cinnamon and pine and the occasional snippet of Christmas music from someone’s office.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” someone said from behind her, and she stopped, annoyed. She needed to get to the Green Room for the mini-recital she and the other members of her string quartet from the Oregon Symphony were putting on for the First Family. They had been hired to play throughout the season for various functions, and they had been invited over that morning to work on the set list with the President and First Lady.

Parker turned, fixing a glare on the very official-looking man standing behind her, his blue eyes serious, his shoulders square. “Yes?” she asked.

Special Agent Michael Casper didn’t blink at the redhead’s pointed look, he just continued. “I’m afraid I need to check your case.”

She blinked, teetering between annoyance and shock. “I checked it at the front gate and with the guards at the front door.”

He gave a short nod and held out a hand. “Yes, but they’re not me.” He pulled out his ID wallet and flashed his badge. “Special Agent Casper, ma’am. Could you step this way?”

She sighed and followed him to a small side room, setting the case on a table, then stepped back with her arms folded to let him inspect it. “Please be careful, okay? I have to play for the President…” she looked down at her watch and groaned. “…now.”

Casper grimaced and did a quick sweep of the case and the gleaming instrument within, feeling badly for the cellist who was practically radiating stress now. He closed it up and handed it back to her. “I apologize. We just can’t be too careful at the moment. Why don’t I walk you there?

“Yeah, okay, fine,” she muttered, checking her watch once more and following him back out into the hall.

He led her quickly to her destination, Parker rather impressed with his speed and quick thinking as he made his way through the halls without any misstep.

When she reached the sitting room the First Family had yet to arrive, and she breathed a sigh of relief to see the rest of her group just settling into their seats. 

“May I take your coat?” Casper asked, standing behind her once more.

“Please, yes, thanks,” she said distractedly, unbuttoning her cowl-necked black coat and letting him slip it from her, not seeing the Agent swallow hard when her clinging green cashmere sweater and silken black slacks was revealed. 

She was gorgeous. Phil Coulson, undercover as FBI Agent Casper, had noticed this when he’d first seen her walk in the House, but to see her free of the confines of her coat, colour high on her pale cheeks, her dark red hair tumbling down her back, had him tightening his fingers on the lightly-perfumed black wool before he draped it over a nearby chair.

“Thank you, Agent…Casper,” Parker said again, grinning to have remembered his name. 

He nodded, schooling his expression. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped away while she took out her cello and bow, then walked over to sit with the rest of the quartet, waiting for the signal that the President was about to enter.

 

After the recital was over and they’d shaken hands with the Family, Parker had packed up once more and headed back out to the hall, surprised to see Casper leaning against the wall, his arms folded.

“President Bartlet is still in there if you need to speak with him,” she said, indicating the parlor, but he shook his head with a smile as he pushed off to stand in front of her.

“Actually, I wanted to see if you’d let me take you out for lunch to apologize,” he replied.

She smiled, nodding. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

 

Casper looked beside him at the musician as they stood in line so he could pay for their lunches. “You’re certain you don’t mind coming here?” he asked her, and she laughed.

Parker looked around her at the cafeteria area of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. “This is perfect,” she replied. “I haven’t been here in ages, and I wasn’t sure if I’d get to play tourist much on this trip.”

They’d stopped by her hotel to drop off her cello and her car, then continued on in Casper’s vehicle to the museum.

“So,” she began when they were seated at their table, “do you take all the girls you have to run security on here?” She grinned at his chagrined expression as he opened his bag of chips.

“No,” Casper answered, a small smile quirking a corner of his mouth. “Just pretty, redheaded cellists who act like they’re going to rip my head off for disturbing them,” he shrugged, amused at the blush that flared to life over her face, Parker taking a hasty sip of her iced tea.

She cleared her throat and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Well, um…Thank you, Agent Casper,” she managed, grinning.

“’Mike,’ actually,” he responded, inwardly cursing that he couldn’t tell her his real name. He bit into his sandwich, an eyebrow lifting when she frowned at him thoughtfully. “What?” he asked, covering his mouth as he chewed.

“You don’t look like a ‘Mike’,” she said pensively, her lips pursing as she studied him. “May I call you ‘Michael’? It’s not exactly right, but I think I like it better for you than the other.” She winced. “That was bitchy, I’m sorry.”

He laughed, impressed also with her observation. This woman was more clever than he’d bargained for. “That’s fine. Do you mind if I call you ‘Parker’?”

“Please do.” She started on her own sandwich, watching him keep part of his attention on the visitors around them. He seemed to be the type that was never ‘off-duty’, but instead of finding that off-putting, it actually gave her a sense of comfort that someone like him worked to keep the country safe.

“How did you get a chance to play at the White House?” Casper asked after a few minutes of eating.

Parker swallowed and sipped her tea. “CJ Cregg attended a concerto we had done in Baltimore a few months ago,” she said, referring to the White House’s press secretary. “From what I’ve been told, she enjoyed our work enough to remark on it to the President, and here we are.” She grinned modestly.

“That’s impressive. How long have you been playing?”

She ate some more of her lunch before answering. “Since I was twelve. I studied it also in college, and just got back from a year in Austria doing an apprenticeship.”

“Wow.” Casper’s eyebrows had lifted during her story. “And now you’re with the Oregon Symphony?”

“For a bit, yes.” Parker nodded. “My dad was a cop, so I majored in Profiling in college.” She blushed slightly, giving him a wry look. “I’ve actually been thinking of applying to the FBI in the next couple of years. I had done an internship with them in college and really enjoyed it.”

Casper smiled, impressed. “But, that’s a bit of a career stretch, don’t you think? Going away from the string section to the shooting range?”

She shook her head. “I think it’s probably better to have something extremely different in your personal life than what your job is. And, well, I want to help people and try to make the world safer and better.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You said your dad was a cop…” he prompted and she sighed. 

“My parents were killed in a tornado when I was a kid. Mom was home when it hit, and Dad had been trying to rescue people elsewhere,” she confessed, twirling her straw in her drink slowly. “I was staying with my grandparents in Portland when it hit.”

Casper frowned and reached to gently take her hand. “I’m sorry, Parker,” he said quietly.

Her smile was strained, but she gave it anyway. “Thank you.”

He squeezed her fingers and offered his own smile before releasing it. “It’s a brave decision and the Bureau would be better to have you in its ranks,” he said, and she laughed.

“That shouldn’t make me blush, but it does,” Parker returned as he let her hand go.

“Forgive me for being forward,” the Agent said softly, his gaze trained on his meal, “but I find myself enjoying making you blush.” He chuckled lightly, embarrassed, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

Her laugh was just as quiet when she replied, “I like it, too.”

Casper smiled and took her hand once more.

 

He left her at her hotel, the Hay-Adams, when they were done exploring the museum, his friend, Josh Lyman, the Deputy Chief of Staff, having called to say they needed him back in the West Wing.

Casper’s lips thinned as he slid behind the wheel and started the engine, driving carefully out of the hotel’s garage, his mind humming with the day’s events.

When he’d been granted this assignment he’d been blown away by the opportunity. He’d only joined SHIELD about two years prior, and to be given a mission at the White House, undercover, was a job he couldn’t pass up. Josh was in on the whole thing, which was a bonus. He hated lying.

Which was why meeting Parker now was something that was beginning to prickle on the back of his neck. There was something about her that fascinated him. And the fact that she seemed to see right through him was both terrifying and intriguing.

What worried him was the current situation with the Bartlet administration. He’d been called in to help with the threats that had been occurring since the President had disclosed publicly that he had Multiple Sclerosis, but had kept it under wraps while campaigning; advice given to him by his campaign managers since they thought the American public wouldn’t vote for a ‘sick’ politician. Now the administration was under scrutiny by Congress, and a militant anti-mutant group had decided that MS was actually code for Bartlet being a mutant, and they wanted him out of the Office, by any means possible.

They’d been responsible for several threats against the President and his family, so Coulson had been brought in undercover to see what he could do by way of advice to diffuse the situation.

He’d thought it would be cut-and-dry, go in, offer help, take out the bad guys, go home. But now there was Parker. And he couldn’t quell the worry in the back of his mind that someone would take it upon themselves to try to do something to the White House and/or those involved with it themselves. Not that he was alright with the idea of Josh or Leo McGarry, the Chief of Staff, or God forbid, the President himself, coming under attack, but this woman was rapidly becoming someone important to him, and the thought of her being in danger made him feel…unsettled.

He sighed, rolling his head slightly to work the kinks out of his neck as he pulled up to the front gates of the House, the Marines stationed there approaching to check his ID. Why had he taken this assignment again?

 

Parker didn’t get to see much of Casper the next couple of days. Between practices and playing at the various functions that sprang up during the month, she barely had time to sleep, she felt, never mind getting a chance to talk to the Agent.

She was hurrying down a corridor a couple of evenings after their lunch, the ‘curtain call’ for the quartet to begin a prelude for a dinner the Bartlets’ had arranged for some military families about to happen in ten minutes, when a hand reached out from behind one of the many massive trees scattered throughout the House and pulled her behind it.

She gasped, eyes wide as she clutched the person’s shoulders in surprise, teetering on black velvet heels from their action. Parker laughed softly when she realized it was Michael, the man eyeing her black velvet corset and plaid taffeta skirt appreciatively.

“You look incredible,” he grinned, holding her closer, enjoying the blush he’d incited once more, her eyes gleaming in the white lights of the tree that hid them.

“This is a nice surprise,” she said breathlessly, her fingers almost trembling as they drifted over his shoulders, then tentatively touched his face.

His expression softened, Casper studying her as one of his hands spread over her waist, the other lifting her hand away so he could kiss her palm. “I’m sorry I haven’t seen you,” he said quietly, enjoying the peach and citrus scent of her skin.

She shrugged, her head tilting. “We’ve both been busy.”

He smiled. “I’m free tomorrow evening.”

“I’m not,” Parker sighed, grimacing faintly. “Small get-together, but enough to warrant music.”

He pursed his lips, thinking. “When is good for you?” he asked finally, mentally going through his own schedule.

“Dinner the following night? I’ve got an early start the next day, so I can’t be out too late…”

Casper grinned. “I’ll have you home by curfew.”

She giggled, sighing when he kissed her palm again.

“You have to go,” he reminded her, though the strong band of his arm over her back didn’t retreat. “They’re waiting for you.”

Parker licked her lips, her heart rate speeding up when Casper followed the motion with his eyes. “So, um…why don’t you kiss me and let me get going?” she whispered, suppressing a shiver at the grin that lit up his face before his lips met hers.

Casper groaned quietly when her mouth opened beneath his, Parker’s arms sliding possessively around his shoulders as his hands gripped her waist, the velvet slick under his palms, and he could feel how warm she’d gotten through the fabric.

He let her break away first, Parker’s lips rosy, her expression one of pleasant surprise. “They teach you that at the Academy?” she asked, trying to calm her breathing.

He chuckled. “No, that’s my own skill set.”

She nodded, impressed. “It’s very good.” She took a breath, then another. “I should go,” she said with an almost puzzled frown that delighted him. She stepped away, standing on her own for a moment to make sure she wouldn’t teeter embarrassingly.

“You should go,” he nodded soberly. “I’ll call you.”

Parker flashed a thumbs-up and walked around the tree, Casper grinning behind his hand. He blinked when she poked her head around again. 

“Wow,” she said, then disappeared once more, the Agent swallowing his laughter before he stepped out from his hiding place, walking in the opposite direction to check on any reports.

 

The next morning, Parker was sitting in the lounge of her hotel, going through her email before the quartet was meeting with Abby Bartlet to finalize that night’s concert. She jumped slightly when her phone vibrated on the table by her hand, and she smiled as she noticed who was texting her.

“Casper, M.: What are you doing?”

Parker grinned and slid open the keyboard on her phone. “Catching up on correspondence. What are you doing?”

“Casper, M: Looking at this hot redhead who keeps smiling at her phone. It’s really weird.”

She gasped, looking up, and laughing when he walked in, looking very sharp in a tailored black suit, the Agent tucking his phone away in the inner pocket. “What on Earth--?” she grinned, getting up.

“I know you’re probably swamped,” he said by way of apology, liking how she took his hand in hers, unconsciously rubbing his fingers to get them warm. “So am I. I’ve actually got a meeting in an hour, but I wanted to walk with you out in the snow later, maybe get some hot chocolate?”

Parker laughed again, intrigued by this man with the hard eyes that seemed to melt whenever he looked at her. “I can give you an hour around two. Would that work? And how do you know it’s even going to snow?” she asked, peering around his shoulder at the lounge’s windows that showed a bright, blue-skied day with almost no clouds.

Casper only smiled and lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I just know,” he answered, squeezing her fingers before letting her hand go. “I’ll pick you up from the House since I’ll be there, too. Alright?”

She nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

 

Parker closed her eyes, smiling at the brush of snowflakes over her face as she walked with Casper along the far side of the Reflecting Pool, near the World War II memorial. The monuments were deserted from the snow that was falling fast and thick, and the couple was staying near to his car in case the weather turned worse. 

“How did you know it would snow?” she asked, opening her eyes and looking at him. “I grew up in Oregon, and I didn’t even know.”

He shrugged, the shoulders of his black, three-quarter length overcoat shifting against his suit. A navy blue scarf was folded neatly over his neck, setting off the colour of his eyes when he smiled down at her. “It smelled like it,” he admitted, looking up at the cloud bank that now covered the Capitol in a gray, woolly mass. “I just wasn’t expecting it to have come down this fast,” he remarked, eyeing the ground that was covered with an already-impressive amount of the white stuff, several inches of accumulation having happened in the short span of hours since he was at the hotel.

“Are you warm enough?” Casper asked, smiling when she moved her hand from her own coat’s pocket and slipped it into his, her slender fingers twining easily through his.

“I’m good,” Parker said reassuringly, though her cheeks and the tip of her nose were becoming red from the chill. “I’m looking forward to hot chocolate later,” she grinned. She sighed, happy, her breath puffing out in diaphanous wisps in the cold air. “How’s your case going?” she asked after a few moments of quiet, the world still around them, muffled by the snow.

Casper’s mouth twisted and he frowned. “Not progressing as quickly as I’d prefer. The team I’m working with is excellent, so I can’t fault them, but I want this thing wrapped up so I can get back to my team.” His expression lightened as he remembered his companion. “But,” he continued, his thumb tracing over her hand in his pocket, “current circumstances are definitely making my stay here more pleasurable,” he said quietly, pausing their trek and enjoying how Parker tilted her face up to his without question. Her sigh made his blood heat even more when her tongue traced the seam of his lips, slipping in and teasing him, Casper’s arm banding behind her back as her palm smoothed across his chest under his jacket.

He was about to draw her closer when she felt a hard hand wrap around her bicep and yank her away, throwing her back against a pair of men with masked faces, Casper crouching and drawing his weapon as the leader faced off with him, his own gun drawn.

He cursed himself for a fool, for having let his guard down even while on a date. Behind the other armed man, Parker struggled with the men who held her, getting an arm free and landing a solid punch to one of their ears, her movement spurring Casper’s own defenses and he lunged towards the leader, managing to pull off his mask. The Agent heard Parker cry out, his head turning in time to see the other of her holders pierce her neck with a syringe, the cellist falling to the snow almost instantly, and Casper reached for her, not seeing the fist aimed at his jaw, knocking him sideways and onto the ground.

“What do you want?” he grunted, gagging when he was kicked in the side, his stomach turning even more as he watched Parker being lifted, her arms and legs dangling as she was carried and unceremoniously dropped onto the floorboards of a waiting van.

Casper’s Glock was kicked away, the man standing over him dropping a business card onto his face before he kicked him again, the agent curling in on himself with the pain. 

“We want Barlet to tell the truth for once,” the attacker snarled, cuffing him on the temple with the butt of his gun, Casper’s vision going dim as the other ran to the van and hauled himself inside, the vehicle moving swiftly away as the door slammed closed.

 

“Sir?”

Clint Barton’s voice swam through his head, Casper groaning at the sound of it as it washed up against the pain in his skull, reverberating and forcing his eyes open. He looked around, gingerly sitting up, somewhat relieved to realize he was in the medical area of one of SHIELD’s mobile command vans.

The assassin archer straightened as his boss swung his feet off of the bunk then offered a painkiller and a bottle of water.

Casper swallowed the meds and chased it with a healthy swig of the water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Parker?” he asked finally, already knowing the answer and feeling shame wash through him from his failure.

“The ‘Friends of Humanity’ have her, sir,” Barton replied grimly, wanting to offer assistance as Casper got to his feet and shrugged back into his blazer, but he refrained. He knew his superior had several bruises, especially around his ribs, but he knew Mike wouldn’t give in to the pain now that he was ‘in the job.’ “They’ve not asked for any ransom, yet, but according the intel coming in on them, they’re going to make a statement tomorrow morning, after they’ve tried to get information from Ms. MacNamara.”

Casper picked up his coat and walked into the command center area of the vehicle, video screens and satellite feeds glowing on the monitor bank in front of the agents and techs seated there, his team from SHIELD that was helping on the case with the White House and their agents. “Bartlet?” he asked, sipping his water again and folding his arms as he studied the screens before him.

“Safe. We contacted his security force when we found you. Your car is back at your apartment, but…we recovered this, too,” Clint said quietly, picking up Parker’s purse from a cabinet behind them. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want it returned to her hotel, or if we needed to keep it here.”

Casper eyed it, his expression neutral save for a minute tick in his jaw. “Her hotel room should be okay for keeping it safe. We’ve got it under surveillance, also?” he asked, turning back to the monitors, eyes narrowing as he watched footage of people walking in front of the White House’s main gates that afternoon while his own car moved up the driveway, Parker standing in the portico, the evergreen garlands above her swinging in the snowy wind.

“Yes, sir. We put a team in place when we realized what had happened to her. So far there’s not been any movement by hostiles. What is it, sir?” Clint asked, noticing that Casper was edging towards the video of him picking up the cellist for their walk.

“Close up on this area, please,” Casper requested, circling a finger over the crowd, especially over a man who seemed to be pacing back and forth in front of the fence. The Agent-in-Charge frowned, his jaw rolling forward as he swallowed, his teeth grinding together slightly as he watched the man lifting an expensive camera, the lens trained on the woman as she walked towards Casper’s car, her face alight with a smile, the bright fall of her hair unmistakable.

“That the guy?” Barton asked, watching the cold mask sliding over his superior’s face as he watched the photographer walking, tracking the car with his camera as it pulled out of the driveway and into the street, the technician manning the keyboard stopping wisely when the camera moved down, the mystery man’s face revealed to their own surveillance devices. 

“Graydon Creed,” Casper said quietly.

 

“But I don’t think I’ve made your acquaintance properly,” the ginger-haired business man smiled glintingly at the woman seated before him, her light green eyes still slightly unfocussed from the drugs his men had to use on her at the Pool.

“Parker M…MacNamara…” she managed, her head rolling back against the high-backed chair she was currently tied to. She clenched her teeth, willing the nausea sloshing through her senses to back off so she could study this man and where she was.

Judging by the décor she was somewhere either still in DC or nearby, the house furnished well and in a colonial theme, the room warmed by unseen heating vents and a fire burning cheerfully in the hearth nearby.

“Ah, so you do have manners…” Creed said, sipping from the glass of brandy he held as he paced before her, enjoying the way she struggled to keep up with his movements. “I wasn’t sure. Being a classically trained cellist is one thing, consorting with a mutant, even one who made it into our highest Office, is another, don’t you think?”

She blinked, trying to keep the incredulity off of her face at his question. He thought Bartlet was a mutant? The absurd thought almost made her laugh, but she stayed silent, thinking that might be her best option for now.

“Tell me, Ms. MacNamara, how does a nice young musician such as yourself come to work for a mutant? Did you meet him at one of your concerts? A friend of the family?” he asked, downing the last of the brandy, then throwing the tumbler viciously into the fireplace, the crystal shattering loudly while the remnants of the alcohol made the fire flare like a living thing. “Or are you one also?” he hissed, moving towards her lightning-quick, his hands gripping over her wrists until she cried out.

“What’s your power, little cellist?” Creed wondered, tilting her face up, delighted to see a tear slip over her cheek. “Can you shape-shift? Read minds? Are you actually blue?”

He traced a finger down her jawline, snarling at the disgust he read in her eyes.

Creed lifted a hand to strike her, a part of him finding a dim respect for the woman as she glared back at him, not flinching, her chin lifting proudly as if to dare him to hit her, when one of his assistants came in, interrupting the moment.

Graydon sniffed at Parker, turning away as if she were meaningless to him as he straightened his suit jacket and walked towards the man waiting in the doorway.

“Sir, there’s a phone call for you,” the other said, handing him a cell phone and looking more than a little nervous.

Creed frowned, taking it from his guard. “Who is it?” he demanded and the other shrugged. 

“I don’t know. But he’s not happy.”

Creed raised an eyebrow and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Graydon Creed,” Casper’s voice said cleanly over the line, and the leader of the Friends of Humanity wondered how someone who sounded like this could have his trained men looking as pale as the one in front of him was. “You have exactly twenty seconds to get Ms. MacNamara outside without any weapons tracking her and release her to my custody, or I and my team will infiltrate and take care of you and your followers.”

“Who the hell is this?” Creed laughed.

“Fifteen seconds, Mr. Creed.”

“Go to hell.” He shut off the phone and threw it to his guard, the man swallowing noticeably as he left the room and closed the door.

The phone rang again, and Creed answered it with a hissed “What?”

“Five seconds. Untie her, bring her out to me.”

Graydon snarled and threw the phone against a wall, watching in satisfaction as it shattered. He was throwing a lot of things today. 

He looked at Parker, who was staring at him, confusion written clearly on her face, and pondered how it would feel to throw her…out a window.

“Don’t touch her.”

Creed whipped around, gaping at the man walking into the room, his black suit impeccable, the gun he had drawn and leveled unwavering as he crossed to Parker.

“Who are you?” Creed demanded, raising his hands and edging towards the gun he kept concealed in the mantel.

“My name’s Agent Casper. You’ve been threatening our President,” was the answer as he moved in front of Parker and kept his gun on the leader while other Agents swarmed in, one with blue eyes and spiked hair moving swiftly to Casper’s side to untie the woman in the chair. 

“He’s a mutant,” Creed snarled, flipping down the hidden panel and releasing his own weapon, firing at the man in black as his own team rushed in.

Parker dropped to the floor as bullets started to fly, Casper crouching in front of her, one knee braced as he took a shot, the man trying to protect Creed falling without a cry, his leader sprinting to find other cover.

“Get her out, Barton,” Casper said quietly, nodding to his second, who helped Parker up, though keeping her crouched. 

She looked to Casper, her eyes clear, and he offered a small smile, that disappeared when she looked beyond him and grabbed Clint’s sidearm from his thigh, the cellist letting loose a shot for a sniper across the room, the scope on the man’s rifle aimed directly at her Agent.

Barton grinned, looking from his obviously-surprised superior to the woman leaning against him, Clint grunting when she started to slide down, her suddenly-limp fingers nearly dropping his gun before he could retrieve it. He looked to her, cursing under his breath at the paleness of her skin, the drugs not totally flushed from her system.

“Go,” Casper said to him, his eyes hard and concerned, and he swallowed the emotions back when Barton lifted her, Parker holding to him, her forehead pressed to the archer’s neck as he rushed her out of the room. She’d saved his life, taking a clean shot with an instant kill, a move almost no civilian could manage, especially without any outward reaction.

He realized he loved her.

Casper grinned inwardly, returning to his work, his tension easing with Barton’s voice in his com-set telling him that Parker was safe.

“Cease fire,” he said quietly, fingers gently touching his earpiece to alert his team, and the silence was immediate.

He rose from where he knelt, stepping over the ropes that had bound Parker, the cords now lying impotently on the floor as he walked to Creed, the man holding out his gun in front of him, a tremor ruining the haughty line of his stance.

Well, Casper reasoned, when you had a squad of SHIELD-trained operatives with their weapons trained on you, it stood to reason that there should be some shaking by their target.

“We can work out a deal, can’t we?” Creed whined, his eyes darting as his bravado drained away, taking in the sight of his men either dead or injured, the invading Agents not looking away from them.

“You threatened our President, accused him unjustly, and kidnapped an innocent woman,” Casper said calmly, replacing the Glock in his shoulder holster, then folding his hands in front of him, his feet spacing evenly as he gazed at the shivering businessman. “You frightened people, hurt people, all because of your delusions.” He blinked, the skin between his brows drawing together as he tilted his head. “I’m not going to arrest you. I’m not going to kill you.” He paused when Graydon exhaled shakily, a grateful smile blooming on his face.

“However,” Casper continued, “I am going to leave you with your people, and leave them with the knowledge that your own parents are mutants, yet you declare your hatred for that race. I wonder…how much greater now is your people’s for you, now that they know you’ve lied all along?” A look almost like sympathy crossed his features, but it had gone by the time he was turning to walk away, his team trailing behind him, making sure all threats had been neutralized before they trooped outside, splitting up to get in their vehicles while Casper climbed back into the tactical van.

 

One of the medics was checking Parker over when Casper made it back to her, the woman sitting on the same bunk he’d used just a few hours earlier.

Casper crouched down in front of her, balancing on the balls of his feet, careful not to touch her. He wasn’t sure what all had happened to her and he wanted to be certain he wasn’t scaring her. “How are you?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together worriedly.

She smiled, tiredly, her sleeve rolled up and arm extended while the doctor drew blood. “I’m alive,” Parker answered, looking at him, then at Barton, who was sitting in a chair by the bed, keeping watch. “Thank you. Please thank the rest of your team, also. I can’t…” She took a breath, swallowing back the tears that threatened. “You did all of this…for me?” she murmured, looking around her at the rest of the van, which was actually a very well-appointed, retrofitted tour bus.

Casper nodded. “Your life was in danger,” he shrugged.

“The boss isn’t one to leave a pretty woman with the bad guys,” Barton smirked, and Casper’s head turned slowly, fixing him with a blank but disapproving stare.

Clint coughed, actually feeling his throat close up from the look, but it was Parker’s laugh that made them both turn.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…amused with this moment,” she managed, thanking the doctor when she was done with the exam, the medic pressing a cotton ball to the inside of Parker’s elbow before securing it with medical tape and leaving the room. “You carried me out, and now you’re flirting with me for him, and I’m surrounded by…spies?” She shook her head. “Hi, I’m Parker,” she said, offering her hand, her other arm bent slightly in her lap.

“Jason Burton,” Clint said smoothly, shaking her hand and inventing an identity on the fly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Casper’s eyes narrowed at him, and Clint let go of her hand and stood with a slight cough. “I’m just going to see how close we are to your hotel, Ms. MacNamara,” he mumbled, walking out of the medical area.

Parker frowned, looking at Casper and watching as he sat down in the vacated chair. “My hotel? You’re not keeping me for interrogation?”

He shook his head. “We’re keeping what you told the doctor on record. And we have enough intel to know what happened to you. I don’t want you having to deal with anymore than is necessary.” He tentatively reached out and took her hand, Parker smiling down at how he cupped both of his around her fingers.

“Michael. I’m alright,” she said softly, her other hand carefully coming to touch his.

“You were kidnapped,” he said roughly, his voice thick and low.

“And I was saved,” she countered, her eyes welling to see the guilt flaying him. “Michael, please,” she whispered. “Stop.”

He watched her, searching her face, and amazed to find forgiveness there. He sighed, letting go of his inner turmoil. “Alright.”

 

They parked a little bit away from her hotel, Casper escorting her in, especially since it was after midnight by this point.

“I’ve spoken with the Bartlet’s and they want you to stay at the House. They want you to play when you’re able, if you don’t mind, but they’ll understand completely if you want to go home,” he said to her as they rode up in the elevator, her hand clasped in his, her other arm wrapped loosely around her middle.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Wow. Um, the White House? Stay at the White House?” she grinned, looking up at him. “Sure. That would be…surreal. And of course I’ll play for them. They hired me, didn’t they?”

Casper turned to her, frowning, and he reached up to trace the back of his hand over her cheek. “Parker, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, watching her eyes, the glimmer of tears in them making him sigh. “Parker…”

She shivered, and then as if a dam had cracked, she trembled, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as a sob escaped, and he carefully tucked her against him, his arms gentle around her back.

The elevator slid smoothly to a stop at her floor and the doors opened, Parker not protesting when Casper leaned down slightly and slid an arm under her knees, lifting her easily and carrying her to her door. “Burton, door,” he muttered, knowing his com-set would pick up his voice, and he watched as the red light on the lock changed to green and he could go inside.

The Agent kicked the door closed, listening for the click of the tumblers resetting before he continued in to the bathroom, noting that her purse had been returned to the room as he walked.

“What are you doing?” she asked, lifting her head when he turned on the lights, the soles of his shoes muffled on the tile floor as he set her down on a cushioned lady’s armchair in front of the vanity then reached for his cell phone and pulled out his earpiece, turning it off.

“First, I’m ordering us something to eat. I’m starved, I’m sure you are, too,” he grinned, trying to keep it light as he removed his coat and set it on the counter. “And then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to help you shower. Nothing untoward, alright? I’d just like to pamper you a little. Is that okay?” He crouched down in front of her, much the same way he’d done in the mobile unit. “You can say ‘no’ and I’ll leave you to yourself. I won’t be far away if you need me.”

She smiled, wiping her eyes with her fingers, and tilting her head appreciatively when he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “You’re a rare breed, Michael,” she murmured, using the soft white cloth under her eyes and wiping her nose. She took a breath, nodding slightly. “Yes, I’d like that. All of it.”

Casper picked up her hand and kissed it as he stood, continuing to hold her fingers while he placed an order, looking down at her for approval as he requested a cheeseburger for her and pancakes for himself. He closed the connection and set the phone aside, then looked to her once more. “Now then,” he began, kneeling at her feet again, and the glimmer of need in his eyes sent heat spreading through her. “I promised you a shower.”

She watched as he slipped off her boots and socks, her feet slightly chilled, and he smiled at the glitter of lavender polish on her toes before he helped her stand, Casper moving with her. He undid her coat and removed it, leaving it on the counter with her sweater and t-shirt when he’d lifted those from her. His stomach tightened at the pearl-coloured lace of her bra, the delicate edges cupping the rounded curves of her breasts the way his hands wanted to.

She blushed, watching as he unconsciously licked his lips as he undressed her, the gesture more from nerves than anything, and she realized that when his eyes met hers, silently asking permission when his fingers slid over the button of her jeans. “Yes,” she whispered, watching his face as he undid the denims and peeled them away and over her hips, the warmth of his palms smoothing over her skin as he pushed her pants down and supported her hand with his shoulder while she stepped out of them, leaving her in her bra and the hip-skimming delicacy of matching panties.

“You’re…Parker, you’re exquisite,” he managed, stepping back to admire her, and she smiled, reaching for him, her eyes closing at the brush of his clothes against her skin, Casper’s hands drifting over her back as he kissed her. He could feel himself hardening, and he tried to suppress it, wanting this to be about her, but the slick twist of her tongue around his was making his resistance difficult. He found the clasp of her bra and undid it, his fingertips tracing over her shoulders as he brought the straps down, the lingerie dropping to the floor when she lowered her arms, her hands settling on his waist even as his palms cupped the aching curves of her breasts.

She moaned into his mouth, her pelvis rocking gently into his at the circling pressure of his fingers over her nipples, Casper rolling them between his knuckles and thumbs, the twin points of pleasurable pain setting off a pulse of heat between her legs. She could feel him through his trousers, the occasional twitch of his arousal against her belly making her want to slide her hand into his pants.

Casper felt her fingers move over his stomach and he reached down and caught her hand, breaking their kiss for a moment to rasp out, “No.”

She blinked, frowning up at him, and he grinned at the defiance in her eyes, even as her lips were swollen from his. “What?” she asked, sure she’d misunderstood him.

Casper shook his head. “No. Tonight is for you, Parker. I plan to help you wash, rub your back, and then I want to taste you.”

She shuddered, his honesty and the promise in his words making her close her eyes for a moment, trying to find a shred of stability. His statement alone could bring her over. “But, what about you?” she asked shakily, opening her eyes again. 

He shook his head once more, his expression serious. “No. I’m on assignment. I won’t make love to you the way I want to when I can’t. It’s not fair to you.”

Parker frowned. “But—“

“Please, sweetheart. I can give you this. Only this.” His eyes pleaded with hers, almost as if he were asking forgiveness.

She sighed, nodding, and he smiled, kissing her softly on the lips, his teeth nipping slightly as his palm slid down her stomach and under the edge of her panties, Parker’s hands gripping handfuls of his jacket when his fingertips moved slowly over the bare skin of her sex, Casper lifting an eyebrow as he allowed himself to explore for a moment. He smirked, watching the flush rising on her chest as his fingers moved beneath her clothing, skimming delicately over the velvet of her.

“I like this,” he commented lowly, sweeping his fingertips over her, enjoying the contrast of smooth to the slick heat of her as he moved lower, stroking down between her folds. He knelt, Parker’s hands coming to rest on his head as he pulled off her panties, the front of them damp with her arousal, and he leaned forward, breathing in her scent before his mouth opened, tongue dragging slowly over her slit until he could work it into her cleft. He undressed her completely, the shifting of her thighs allowing him more access, and Parker whimpered when his tongue drifted down, flickering along the edges of her.

“Do you mind if the shower waits a little?” he asked, kissing the star-shaped birthmark on her upper-left thigh and looking up at her, Parker staring at him through bewildered eyes that he could form coherent thought as well as voice it.

“What about room service?” she asked and he shrugged. 

“I’ve got enough time,” he said, and she laughed outright. 

“No,” she retorted, shaking her head. “I’m going to shower. You wait for the food. And we’ll eat, and then you are continuing this.”

Casper snickered, his finger reaching to find her clit and rub it until her legs trembled. “Yes, ma’am,” he promised, licking her taste from his fingertip.

Parker glared at him as he stood again.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to help with your bath?” he asked as she turned towards the glass shower stall, the Agent admiring her openly as she walked.

She threw a glance at him over her shoulder as she opened the door. “If I let you in here, the busboy will be waiting for us to answer the door for a long while, Michael.”

He grinned and left her alone, Parker resting her forehead on the glass for a moment before going to start her bath.

 

Their dinner arrived fairly quickly, and Casper gave her clothes to the bellman to please take them to the laundry service and have them cleaned by the morning, then sat to wait while she bathed. He turned on the television, watching some Christmas romantic-comedy to pass the time, though keeping an ear open in case Parker needed him, or he heard any other sounds of distress from her.

She was holding up remarkably well. He didn’t think of her as weak, but being a civilian, he knew what had happened would haunt her. Hell, it would haunt him, and he’d been on the outside of it all. She’d agreed to stay in touch with SHIELD so their psychiatrists and therapists could work with her, and he was grateful she’d gone along with it. He hated to see her suffer, and it impressed him that she knew herself well enough to ask for help.

He heard the shower shut off, and he shifted in his chair as he watched the movie, listening to her putter around before finally emerging in one of the hotel’s puffy robes, her hair combed back from her face and twisted up in a bun, the colour of the dark red strands even deeper from the water.

Her eyes looked haunted, and he knew she was starting to internalize what had happened.

“Come and eat, Parker,” he said gently, holding out a hand and standing to pull out her chair for her at the small breakfast table by the window.

“I keep thinking I’m okay, and then I start to feel anxious again,” she admitted, sitting down and letting him take the domes off of the plates, the scent of her meal making her smile a little.

Casper nodded, taking his seat again. “That’s very normal for someone in your situation. But, you’ll get through it, you’ll feel better,” he assured her. “A therapist is going to work with you tomorrow to get the ball rolling, and I’m going to be here tonight, if that’s alright, so you won’t be alone.”

She bit her lip, looking over at him. “Thank you, Michael.”

He smiled, reaching over and taking her hand. “Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

Parker frowned, picking up her napkin and laying it over her lap. “You’re still blaming yourself,” she stated flatly, sprinkling salt over her fries and pouring ketchup. “I told you you didn’t need to.”

His mouth turned down and his jaw clenched as he started on his own supper, dressing the pancakes the way he preferred. “I didn’t protect you, Parker,” he snapped. “It’s my job to make sure the people around me are safe, and I failed.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You couldn’t have known we’d get ambushed! And you tried to save me, I saw you! And you did save me!” Tears brimmed in her eyes, her hands fisted in her lap. “You walked in, calm as anything, with a team of people, and you got me out! I’m safe!” she insisted, getting out of her chair and going to him to cup his face in her hands. “Michael, I’m safe, okay?” 

He sighed, closing his eyes as she leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You’re safe,” he repeated, his whispered words breaking almost. He looked up at her, managing a smile back and she let him go to sit down once more.

They started their meal again, sitting in a comfortable silence now that they’d gotten to yell a little, and watched the movie as they ate. 

Somewhere after the middle of the film Parker scooted her chair back to sit by Casper’s so they could watch side-by-side, and she enjoyed the warmth of his arm next to hers, the Agent having taken off his blazer and removed his firearm from his shoulder holster and rolled up his cuffs while he was eating for comfort. His tie was gone and he’d loosened his collar, and he seemed much more relaxed now.

She uncrossed her legs, slumping slightly in her chair, starting to feel drowsy from the late hour and the insanity of the day when she felt his arm move and slide under hers, his fingers drifting across one of her thighs.

Parker glanced at him, trying not to shiver as his fingertips drew back after encountering the closed seam of her legs, then moved back down, Casper stroking nonchalantly while he watched the film. She could feel herself tingle, heat blossoming from his caresses, and she moved her legs apart a bit more, her mouth opening silently when he took the invitation, his hand sliding slowly up the inside of a thigh.

When his touch finally brushed against her center, Casper sucked in a quiet breath, his fingers encountering bare skin, and he clenched his teeth to realize that she’d been sitting here, nude under her robe, the whole time. Standing in front of him to offer comfort, nothing covering the pale cleft between her legs.

He looked over at her, his mouth going dry at the expression of need she wore, her lips faintly parted, her eyes closed as he turned his hand, and stroked his middle finger down between her folds, tucking it just under her clit and drawing it back up to circle around the hardening point. Her hips rocked slightly against his hand, Parker opening her legs even more, and he smiled, obliging her by sliding his finger down into her slit, his ring finger soon joining the first to stroke in and out of her. Her arousal soon coated his skin as she lifted herself to thrust in time with his hand, Casper twisting his wrist and watching her whimper as he moved around to be in front of her, the redhead moving forward to sit on the edge of her chair as he touched her.

He pulled his hand away, slowly enough that he felt her muscles contract in protest around his fingertips, and Parker looked at him through lowered lids, biting her lip as he licked her essence from his hand. He reached down and helped her to her feet, lifting her and laying her back on the bed, sinking in to the downy comforter. Casper knelt above her, bracing on his hands as he leaned down to kiss her, giving her a taste of herself as his tongue slid into her mouth.

She pressed her thighs together, trying to ease the throb of her passage, and he reached between them to unbelt her robe, gently opening it and moving down her neck with open-mouthed kisses that had her gripping his shoulders. Her nipples tightened even further in the cool air of the room, the brush of the terrycloth over them as he bared her skin to his mouth a teasing rasp that was soothed with the warm heat of his tongue. Her fingers slid through his hair, gripping for a moment as he suckled her, Parker’s other hand lifting so she could toy with her other breast, her stomach tensing as the rhythm of his mouth began to influence the tiny peaks of sensation running through her sex.

“I’ve wanted to do this for you for so long,” Casper muttered, his breath heating the wet circle his lips had left on her skin, watching her face as he slid his hand down, tracing spirals over her belly and waist, the sensitive skin there making her back arch, Parker gasping softly. “The minute I took your coat off before your recital, I wanted to kiss your neck, explore what I imagined under that sweater…This is so much better,” he smiled, cupping her, and massaging slowly, her upper thighs already coated with her sleekness.

He hummed slightly, his eyes closing for a moment to feel how wet she was, to know that she was this restless because of his touch, and he moved lower until he could get off of the bed and kneel, his hands gently grasping behind her knees to slide her down to the edge of the mattress. He braced her feet on the comforter, his eyes on hers as he rose up, his tongue moving in one long glide up her slit, flickering at the top until her hips twitched, Parker grabbing for the blanket beneath her when his lips closed around her clit, rolling it between them before he lapped softly beneath it. She tasted glorious, felt amazing against his mouth, the fantasies he’d allowed himself shattering with the soft noises she made with each movement of his tongue. His hands moved up to part her, holding the blushing petals open so he could dip his tongue into her, swirling it hard into her core as two fingers rubbed over her clit, Parker crying out and gripping his head to hold him closer.

“Please,” she whimpered, hips moving sinuously as he slid his fingers in and out of her, his lips moving back up to suckle her. 

“Are you going to come, Parker?” Casper murmured against her flushed skin, sighing as she nodded, whispering, “Yes…” and he pressed his fingers up into her, keeping pressure on her entrance as he rubbed her clit faster, straightening to stand and biting his lip as her back arched, her hands stretching above her head as she panted, keening softly in a long note as she found her release, her inner muscles contracting in lush pulses around his fingers.

Tears slid from her eyes into her hair, Parker sobbing with the lingering rush of her orgasm, and Casper slipped his hands from her to move her back up on the bed, the cellist curling into him when he lay down with her, letting her cry against his shirt. She’d needed the release, in more ways than one, he knew. Needed to let everything get out of her so she could start to heal.

He kissed her hair, then her cheek, smiling when she lifted her face to kiss him, Parker shuddering as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close while she began to drift into sleep, her arms limp where they were curled between them.

 

When Casper was fairly certain she’d fallen asleep, he covered her with a corner of the comforter and eased off of the bed to go into the bathroom for his own shower. She needed to rest, and he hoped the sound of the water cutting on wouldn’t disturb her as he slipped off his shoes and socks and padded in to the glass-in area, the tile cool under his feet. He stepped out of the way of the water, moving from the shower to stand on the bath-mat while he took off his holster and pulled his shirt out from his waistband to undo it. He was just about to unbutton his cuffs when the door opened and Parker walked in, looking irritated.

He swallowed, the sight of her standing there, her skin still flushed from his attention, her hair mussed and coming out of the twist she’d put it up in making him even harder, and she looked pointedly towards his lower body, then back up at his face.

“Why? Why not, Michael?” she asked, folding her arms, the movement pushing her breasts together as she faced off with him.

“There are too many risks, Parker,” he returned, undoing his cuffs and pulling off his shirt, the redhead sighing as she watched the roll of muscles in his chest and shoulders from the movement. He tossed the garment on the counter, his hands reaching to undo his trousers, and he sighed as she walked closer, her fingers covering his.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his, the sadness in them making him sigh again. “Please.” She unclasped the waistband, then gently slid the zipper down, holding the expensive cloth away from him as her hand slid behind it and under his boxers, Casper hissing out a breath when her fingers enclosed him.

He helped her slide the rest of his clothes off, Parker releasing him so he could step out of them. He licked his lips and took her hands in his. “I can’t—“

“Just touch,” she assured him. “I understand.” She smiled, rising on tiptoe to kiss him, keeping herself angled away for those moments before turning to walk in to the shower.

He followed, watching as she picked up a cake of soap and a wash cloth, rubbing them together slowly and smiling at the bubbles growing between her hands. “Go stand under the water,” she requested, and he obliged, exhaling on a groan as the hot spray hit his back, and he turned, bracing his hands on the wall behind it to let the shower loosen his shoulders.

Casper smiled as he felt one of her hands slide up his back, slick with soap, while the other smoothed the cloth over his spine in small circles, Parker silent as she washed him, her eyes following every line of his form.

He knew she saw his scars, old ones from his military days, new ones from missions that had gotten dangerous, but she didn’t shy away from them. Her fingers touched them carefully, avoiding ones she could see were too fresh, but gently reverent over the ones that she realized could have easily taken him away too soon. She accepted these, accepted all of him, and appreciated the moments she was getting to have out of his hectic life.

She washed his back and down his legs, kneeling to smooth the cloth over his thighs and calves, one hand trailing with wicked swirls that slipped around to reach up and clasp around him. She caught him watching as she touched him and she smiled to see the strain on his face as she stood and turned him away from the water. Parker smiled, humming in satisfaction as she traced the trails of water and soap running over him, still gently cleaning him with the cloth while her hand rose and fell around his shaft.

She winked, and a laugh rumbled in his chest with the tease as she let him go to rub more soap onto her cloth then return to his bath, her smile thoughtful as she gently trailed her touch over his arms and chest. More scars, still beautiful, his strength hidden in the toned lines of his body, and she lifted one of his hands to kiss his palm, resting her cheek in it to memorize the feel of him.

She loved him. She knew this; had known it, though couldn’t exactly say when the revelation had hit her.

And she knew he’d have to leave, and it broke her heart to know this would be their only night. So she tucked the thought away, keeping it separate from the memories she was building, and concentrated on learning him, listening to his shuddering breaths and quiet moans triggered by her own hands.

Parker moved him under the water again, rinsing the soap and pushing it away with her palms, pressing kisses to the backs of his shoulders as he reached for the shampoo and washed his hair himself. Her mouth opened, Casper shivering when her tongue trailed over his skin, feeling the movements of his arms affecting his back, and he groaned aloud when her arms wrapped around him, her teeth nipping at his neck even as her hands smoothed over his belly and down to skim along his rigid shaft.

“Parker…” he rasped, his head bowing under the shower, washing away the sweat and stress of the day. His tongue smoothed over his lower lip, teeth soon sinking in to the flushed curve as her hands enclosed him, one gripping and stroking upward while the other cupped him gently.

“I want you inside of me,” she murmured, squeezing him slightly as she let him thrust into her hand. “Can’t you feel how badly I need you? I’m aching, tight…”

Casper moaned, his body slipping against hers as she stood behind him, moving with him, and he pulled her around to his front, Parker’s hand not leaving him as he sat down on a bench jutting from the wall, the agent pulling her down to straddle his thigh, one of her knees braced on the seat as he looked up at her. His hand moved between her legs, her head falling back as his fingers pushed into her, mimicking the movement of his shaft in her palm.

She leaned against him, her breasts sliding against his arm and chest as she rode his hand, his thumb pressing and rubbing her clit even as his stomach tightened, the edge of his release just within reach.

“Now, Parker…” he murmured, listening as she came, her nails biting in to his shoulder, her hair clinging to his skin, and the contraction of her around his fingers pushed him over, Casper shuddering with his release.

He slid his hand from her, holding her against him as her fingers moved away, their breath lost in the sound of the water.

 

Laughter and conversation drifted through the halls of the White House a few nights later, the last of the Christmas parties in full swing in one of the dining rooms, and Parker had slipped out to use the washroom during a break in playing.

She’d been working with the SHIELD-appointed therapist, still having occasional nightmares, but she was getting better. She’d called her grandparents and told them, assured them that she’d be home soon, and just let them talk to her and reassure themselves that she was okay.

Casper had had to dive back in to work, but he visited her as often as he could, which sadly was not as much as either of them would like. A lunch here, a smile in the hall there, but she would take it. 

They’d both have to leave soon. His case, after her kidnapping, was almost completely wrapped up, and with Christmas Eve occurring in two days, she was actually set to fly out back to Portland the next morning.

She sighed, looking down at the carpet as she walked, the satin skirts of her royal blue gown puffing with each step.

“You shouldn’t look so sad this close to Christmas…” a voice said quietly nearby, and she grinned as she looked up, seeing him step out from behind a Christmas tree a small, brightly-wrapped gift in his hand. “Especially when I got you a present.”

Parker laughed, shaking her head at him and letting him pull her behind the tree. “What is it?” she asked as he handed her the box. 

Casper smiled, kissing her forehead. “Just open it.”

She did, enjoying how he sighed when she delicately undid the paper and then handed it to him, her eyebrows drawing together when the logo of the Smithsonian gleamed up at her from the box. She looked up at Casper, her lips parting slightly at his grin, and he nodded at her to keep going.

She blinked, still frowning as she opened it, biting her lip as her eyes welled with tears at the small silver pendant on a thin chain. 

"The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to control your life. The process is its own reward. –Amelia Earhart," she read the inscription quietly, sniffing a little as she did. She looked to him again, sighing. “Michael…”

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Well, you’d mentioned at the museum that you were named for her, so…” He chuckled. “I ran into the gift shop when you were in the bathroom that day.”

Parker gaped at him, truly shocked. “But, we’d just met!”

Casper shrugged again, untucking his hands to bring her closer to him. “But you’re special.” His eyes turned serious, and she made a small whimper, not wanting to hear what she knew was next. “I have to go,” he murmured, hating how her breath shuddered, a tear sliding over her cheek even as she nodded.

“Be safe,” she said softly, touching his cheek, the bruise from her attackers still lingering on his skin.

Casper leaned forward and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her slightly, his chest tightening painfully when her arms slid around his shoulders, Parker pulling away from the kiss to press her face into his neck, her tears hot against his skin.  
“Thank you. For everything…” she said, grimacing as she moved back, her laugh watery when he handed her his handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

“Thank you,” he replied, brushing her hair off of her forehead. 

They regarded each other in the quiet space behind the tree, snow falling outside the window beyond them, lights twinkling warmly beside them.

“Merry Christmas,” Parker whispered, and he smiled.

“Merry Christmas,” Casper answered, looking at her once last time before he stepped away, Parker staying behind the tree until she couldn’t hear him any longer.

She looked down at the pendant and smiled sadly, touching the tiny words of her namesake, then looking out at the snowy night.

“Goodbye, Agent Casper,” she whispered, closing the box and walking back to the party.


End file.
